Food4thought

Mopping up the store, late nights, put some beats on
Nothing as good as the shit that kurashige on
Saving up for a twenty-three Nissan
forty-k, shit, imma put a lease on
Turn it up boy, put our new release on
Got the sound low, talking down like Dijon

Boba shop with the baddies, hair done to match her nails
Bumping that Bad Bunny, baby girl I know you real
Can I meet your daddy and your momma too, that's a deal
He said "what's your intention?", boy I'm here to cop a feel
Nah, fuck that shit and silicone
Cellulite my favorite part, call me on my cellular
A writer but I'm still direct, hyperboles and metaphors
You the best of all time, shit I heard that the most times
I'm the most high at my midwest high
Since fucking o-nine, when I rocked that suit and tie

Woah, woah
And I'm shooting out the bentley, got more mula so don't test me
Made of metal like a chest piece, having sex with my two besties
What the fuck were you expecting
What the fuck were you expecting on that late night when you text me
I don't wanna be a last choice, I can't help it cause you left me
Super condescending, and I think that's why you get me
We broke up and I grown up, you know that's my favorite ending
Sorry I'm just venting, you were always vending
Trying to trade emotions like they're fucking currency
It's not hard to be a man, tell that to myself, I'm trying man
Look at you, you just a fan, but look at me, we all the same
I love the way shit falls in place
Sixteen years, it's not a race
Hold up, hold up, hold up, I'll still smack you, you wan to try today

Epidemic, epidemic, violence, epidemic, violence, epidemic, violence
Move, epidemic, violence, move, epidemic, violence, move, epidemic, violence



Credits
Writer(s): H@mpton. J
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link